


Show Me How It's Done

by BabyMakesThree (smittenbritain)



Category: Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, PWP, Role Reversal, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 09:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15793467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenbritain/pseuds/BabyMakesThree
Summary: “Sounds like you’re forgettin’ who’s in charge here, Rubio,” Holt said casually. “If you wanna come, you’ll have to be good.”Midas’ eyes cracked open, the corners crinkled with amusement. “Cute.”Holt chuckled. “Cute?”“Yeah. Cute that you’re trying, but you’re not really living up to your name yet,Dom.”





	Show Me How It's Done

It was quiet - but, for once, it wasn’t _too_ quiet.

There was no tense wait as they crouched outside a base, nor were there any hushed warnings as a sniper scope glinted in the distance. No thudding chopper blades disturbed the rare chill of the evening; Nomad hadn’t even turned on the jeep’s radio as they made their way into a village for the night, instead allowing them a rare moment of peace. When he parked up, there was only the soft chirp of insects and the rustling of their clothing as they hopped out.

From there, they split into their usual pairs for the watch overnight: Nomad and Weaver swept the surrounding houses, while Holt headed inside their chosen one with Midas.

Holt performed the usual checks, cautiously peering into each room to make sure it was clear before they settled down for the night. Exhaustion was a heavy weight in his bones, but he refused to let it make him sloppy, so he took his time peering through the low light just to make doubly sure that he wasn’t missing anything. The familiar sound of Midas’ footsteps interrupted his thoughts as his squadmate headed up the stairs behind him, carrying the few supplies they had up to safety for the night. A low ache of longing struck up in Holt’s chest, but he shook himself and forced his attention back to the task at hand. He only joined Midas upstairs when he was completely certain that the house was clear.

Midas had already started to settle in. His boots were off and resting by the side of the narrow bed, along with his protective gear and his gun. For the moment, his scarf simply rested around his neck, tugged down from its usual position over his mouth and nose. He glanced up and offered Holt a small but fond smile as he closed the door behind himself; Holt answered it with an easy grin of his own.

“You look tired,” Holt said, tilting his head towards Midas. “You okay?”

“Mm. Been a long day.” He laid back on the bed with a sigh, his eyes sliding shut. Idly, Midas reached up to tug on the collar of his shirt, most likely just for some cooler air on his skin. “I’m good, though.”

Holt bit the inside of his cheek to stop a smile from sneaking across his face. He deliberately turned away as he shrugged the strap of his gun off his shoulder, resting it against the wall so it would be within reach in an emergency. He took his time with making himself comfortable, lazily toeing off his boots and tugging his headset off, until, piece by piece, he was left wearing just his shirt and pants. It was enough that, briefly, he felt a pang of longing for home, where he didn’t have to be constantly on edge - but Midas’ presence soothed that ache mere seconds after it arrived.

When he faced the bed again, Holt had a plan in mind.

Rather than climb into the empty space on the bed, he padded around to Midas’ side on bare feet; he knew he wouldn’t go undetected - Midas was too sharp for that - but his partner didn’t stir just yet. When Holt casually slid onto his lap, though, Midas opened his eyes, the quiet exhaustion on his face turning into faint amusement. He stayed silent as Holt relaxed with his knees on either side of Midas’ hips, and he simply arched an eyebrow when Holt’s hands came to rest either side of his shoulders.

“You’re _good,_ are you?” Holt purred. A thrill rushed through him at reversing their roles here. He loved the form their usual nights in took and he wouldn’t trade it for anything, but there was something exciting about having Midas under him like this. It was different, exciting in the same way it was when he held a live grenade.

Even when Midas’ first reaction was a low chuckle, though, Holt didn’t falter. He just grinned along with him.

“Well…” He trailed off, his head tilting as he considered Holt. “You’ll have to find out, won’t you, _Dom?”_

Holt licked his lips, an excited buzz building in his chest as he looked _down_ at Midas for once. He already knew Midas didn’t go down easy - he already liked to make Holt work for it when he was on his knees, so there was no way he’d lay back and let Holt do what he liked without somewhat of a battle. It was, admittedly, an enjoyable part of their relationship; Holt loved taking it slow just like anyone else, but out here, with the Bolivian heat and the constant threat of El Sueño’s men pressing in around them, there was no time for sweet. They’d have plenty of time for that once they were back home.

But that didn’t mean they couldn’t indulge a little bit. Lazily, Holt rolled his hips against Midas’, delighting in the way his partner’s eyelids fluttered shut at the gentle pressure. A quiet sigh passed between Midas’ lips, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth; for the moment, he seemed content to let Holt do as he liked, but he knew it wouldn’t stay this easy.

“Sounds like you’re forgettin’ who’s in charge here, Rubio,” Holt said casually. He kept up his careful, deliberate pace, slowly working Midas up with each press of his hips. “If you wanna come, you’ll _have_ to be good.”

Midas’ eyes cracked open, the corners crinkled with amusement. “Cute.”

Holt chuckled. “Cute?”

“Yeah.” Warm palms settled on Holt’s hips, subtly guiding them to get just the right angle. Heat flushed through Holt’s chest when he realised he could feel the firm press of Midas’ cock through his combat pants. “Cute that you’re trying, but you’re not really living up to your name yet, Dom.”

“I’ve barely gotten started,” Holt pointed out. He pushed himself upright so he could lay his hands over Midas’ - except he firmly removed them to plant them back onto the mattress again. Midas didn’t seem surprised by the move; in fact, he simply smiled and went along with it, and he stayed put when Holt let him go again. “You’ve gotta give me a chance here, man.”

“I’ve given you one already. It’s up to you to do something with it.”

The image of Midas like this - sprawled on his back, a slight smirk on his face as he looked up at Holt - simply stunned him for a moment, leaving him unsure how, exactly, he was supposed to proceed. He had ideas, of course, but if he couldn’t pull them off right, he might as well just flip their positions right now and give Midas the reins back. The longer he sat there, hips still idly shifting, the wider Midas smiled, and the higher the chance that Midas might test him further.

Holt was good at shittalking when he needed to be, but Midas had always been immune to that. The next best thing was, naturally, a distraction.

He swooped in to kiss the smile right off of Midas’ face, barely holding his own back at the surprised grunt Midas muffled between them. Despite his words, Midas kept his hands where they were, and Holt greedily let his roam; they wandered over his broad shoulders, mussed up his ponytail, and tucked under the hem of his shirt to catch just a hint of skin. Holt was always eager to touch, and having the freedom to do it now was intoxicating.

It backfired a little, though, distracting him more than it probably did Midas, so Holt decided to simply give up on planning altogether and just go with his gut. Impulsivity had always suited him more anyway. It couldn’t be _that_ hard to improvise when he knew what they both liked.

With a lingering hint of teeth, Holt propped himself up on an arm again so he could snake the other between them. He grinned down at Midas as he popped open the button on his pants and idly thumbed the zipper down, purposefully grinding it against his dick through his underwear. The subtle hitch of Midas’ breath was _so_ thoroughly rewarding, and easily enough to make Holt twitch with want.

Not yet, though. For once, Midas was going to be the one squirming.

Holt palmed him through his underwear, dragging his fingers along the bulge of his dick with just enough pressure to make Midas’ hips tilt up into his hand. A low groan rumbled in his throat, and Holt grinned breathlessly down at him as he curled his fingers around him, pulling the cotton of his briefs tight. It was, admittedly, a rare and pretty sight to have Midas flushed and wanting underneath him; Holt was more than eager to take in the sight and commit it to memory.

Other than his quiet noises and the way he twitched against Holt’s palm, though, Midas still maintained a casual, relaxed air, even managing a lazy smirk through his blush. “Gonna get to it at some point?” he murmured, arching an eyebrow. “Or are you just gonna keep playing around?”

“What’re you gonna do?” Holt shot back. He knew it was playing with fire to be so cocky, but it was _fun._ “C’mon, you always tell me to be patient. Can’t take it when it’s your turn?”

“There’s a difference between asking for patience and being a tease,” Midas replied dryly. Holt gave him another gentle squeeze just to try and draw a reaction out of him; Midas’ lips parted on a quick breath, but otherwise, he didn’t give Holt what he was looking for. “Might decide to break the _no touching_ rule.”

Holt snorted as he slipped his fingers up, toying with the waistband of Midas’ underwear. “Sure, but it’ll only make me take longer. Might have to tie you up.”

Midas laughed, soft and warm and just a little bit dangerous. “We both know that that wouldn’t hold me, Dom.”

A shiver ran down Holt’s spine as he paused, staring down at Midas for a second. The way he arched an eyebrow, cool and collected despite the way he was straining against his underwear, was what broke Holt, and he fumbled to tug Midas’ briefs down to his thighs; he was too impatient to undress properly, and there was no point in getting completely naked when there was always the chance that they’d have to be ready to fight at any moment. Holt had a plan, but he’d kept their location and their job in mind, too.

The touch of bare skin on skin had more of an effect on Midas. Holt wrapped his hand around him for a few leisurely strokes, gently squeezing around the base and sliding up to thumb the tip, and Midas rolled up into the movements with a low noise. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before snapping open again, fixing on Holt’s face with laser focus. Holt shivered at the pure want written all over his face.

Licking his lips, Holt straightened up, and he took his hand away with one last little twist of his wrist. “No, it wouldn’t hold you,” he agreed, sliding his hands south to unbutton his jeans. “But I figure something else might.”

Holt was certainly glad that he’d already undressed a little, just because it made this delivery a little easier. Okay, so they shouldn’t get completely bare in case they were needed quickly, but Holt wasn’t about to stay _fully_ clothed when he had a very willing - and, still much to his amusement, a very prepared - partner underneath him.

He wasn’t quite done being a tease, though.

He pushed his jeans down just enough that he had plenty of room to shove a hand into his underwear. His shoulder hunched in a little at the first touch; he was already damp and sensitive, his dick twitching at the light, explorative brush of his first two fingers. Admittedly, Holt became more wrapped up in his own pleasure for a moment as he lightly stroked himself, and it took Midas gripping his hip for him to come back to himself.

“Dom,” Midas murmured, thumbing just above his waistband.

Holt gasped, his thumb slipping to press a little more firmly against himself. “Mm,” he hummed, grinding against his hand. He summoned the strength to look up, though, and he managed to shoot a cocky smirk at Midas. “What did I say about keepin’ your hands to yourself, Rubio?”

Midas’ lips thinned as he pressed them firmly together and, slowly, lowered his hand back to the sheets. He took a deep breath, held it, and when he exhaled, he breathed, _“Please.”_

The fact that _Midas_ was drawn out to near begging sent a hot shiver down Holt’s spine. His thighs squeezed against Midas’ sides as he let out a shuddering breath through parted lips. Admittedly, he wasn’t sure how much more patient he could be; seeing Midas that desperate, feeling him pressing against his ass - Holt was a weak man, and he knew what he wanted.

He rose up onto wobbly feet, clumsily shoving his jeans and underwear down his thighs. “You got protection on you?”

Midas offered a low, warm laugh. “I always come prepared, Dom.”

When he was comfortably bare from the waist down, Holt settled back onto his knees above Midas again, his stomach twisting with anticipation when he saw a little foil packet between Midas’ fingers. He was already working on pulling it open, and Holt watched as he plucked the condom out, grasped his own length, and rolled it on, teasingly slow. He would’ve thought Midas was just being careful if it hadn’t been for the smirk on his lips when he glanced up; Midas’ touch lingered then, stroking down his dick under the pretence of smoothing out the condom, but his content little hum was all Holt needed to know what he was really up to.

“Hands,” Holt said, his voice weak.

Midas simply smiled as he let go, laying his hand back on the mattress again. “Help yourself, then,” he replied evenly.

This time, Holt didn’t call him out for the way he grabbed his hips. The hold was careful yet reassuring, and so damn steadying when he rose up onto his knees to hover above Midas’ dick. Even then, Holt couldn’t bring himself to wait, though: the moment he was lined up and the head was pressing against him, Holt began to lower himself again, exhaling a hard breath at how familiar and _thick_ Midas was. There was a fine tremble in the muscles of his thighs as he took his length, and his shoulders hunched in with a quiet noise.

“Fuck,” Holt hissed.

“Doing okay there, Dom?” There was no trace of amusement in Midas’ voice here; just the strain of pleasure, held back in favour of making sure Holt was alright.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Holt said breathlessly. He settled once he’d taken as much as he could, resting on his knees and simply taking a moment to adjust. Chuckling, he said, “Did you get bigger since we last fucked or has it just been too long?”

Midas’ laugh was quiet and rough. “The latter, probably.”

Holt shot him a grin. “Guess we should do it more often then, huh?”

“And explain to Tony why you’re limping all the time?”

“Someone’s cocky.”

“Mhm.”

They both trailed off, still smiling - Holt never tired of seeing the creases at the corners of Midas’ eyes when he smiled - though those faded too as Holt began to carefully rock his hips. He started with gentle movements, testing the waters, but he soon curled his fingers in Midas’ shirt to simply _grip_ as he pressed against all the right spots. Midas’ fingers curled around his hips, not guiding but just holding in return, his eyelids hooded as Holt moved on top of him.

Suddenly desperate for more, Holt dipped down onto his elbows, planting them either side of Midas’ head, so he could lean in to kiss him. They were both clumsy when their lips met, too eager to make it at all graceful; Holt couldn’t help whining into it when the angle put more pressure on _just_ the right place.

It clearly didn’t escape Midas. His hold on his hips tightened, holding him in place as he withdrew his own slowly - only to snap his hips up again, startling a louder moan out of Holt, barely muffled by his partner’s lips.

Midas kept up the pace of fucking up into him from then, keeping Holt balanced with his hold on him, even as Holt eagerly bounced back into his thrusts. The time for patience and teasing had passed, and Holt couldn’t even bring himself to care - Midas kept striking his sweet spot on every other thrust, and it made Holt see stars behind his closed eyelids when combined with Midas’ low murmurs of his name: _Dom,_ not _Holt._

He broke the kiss to tuck his face in against Midas’ neck instead, bumping his nose and lips against Midas’ jaw on the way. He was close enough to feel it building in his stomach, tight and hot; Holt shoved a hand between them to jerk himself off, his fingers blurring with need instead of staying timed with Midas’ movements.

“Rubio,” he panted, his breaths puffing roughly against the sweat-damp skin at the hollow of Midas’ throat. “Fuck, Rubio, I’m right there, _please-”_

He cut himself off with a cry, one he frantically tried to muffle - he didn’t need Nomad giving them a lecture about alerting Santa Blanca by _fucking,_ of all things - as Midas started tugging him down to meet his thrusts. It only took a handful more coupled with the quick rubbing of his fingers to send Holt hurtling over the edge; he hunched over Midas and whined into his collar, felt himself clench around Midas hard too, all while Midas just _kept going._ It prolonged Holt’s high and had his fingers curling into Midas’ shirt, his whines turning higher pitched as sensitivity set in - but before it could all become too much, Midas pulled him into one last thrust and then stilled, their hips pressed flush together, as he groaned quietly against Holt’s ear. Holt shivered at the sound, his fingers flexing slightly with lingering energy as he idly rocked in Midas’ lap, chasing each little bit of pleasure he could get for them as they came down.

Just as Holt was beginning to relax again, Midas shifted underneath him, and he suddenly found their positions reversed. Midas slipped free as they moved, and Holt huffed out a breath at the loss - he gasped again seconds later though at the first rough touch of Midas’ fingers against his dick.

“Thought you were done,” he panted, cracking a smirk as he arched underneath him.

“And leave you with just one after that performance?” A sly smile crept across Midas’ face.

Holt’s head dropped back onto the mattress with a too loud _thump._ “Shit, you know how to treat a guy right, don’t you?”

Midas’ only reply was a low, amused hum. He thumbed Holt’s dick again - he couldn’t help the way he twitched, he was still so sensitive - and then, without waiting, sealed his lips around it and _sucked._

Choking back his noises, Holt flung a hand up to grasp at Midas, holding him wherever he could reach: he patted over shoulders and his neck before finally settling in his hair. The elastic band that held up his ponytail was barely there now, settled at the tail end rather than at Midas’ skull. Holt had always been a sucker for messing up Midas’ hair, though, and this was no exception: strands had stuck to his temples and neck with sweat, brought on by the Bolivian heat and what they’d been up to.

The lingering sensitivity from coming so recently meant that Holt was close in no time at all. His thighs trembled on either side of Midas’ head and he fidgeted on the bed, torn between bucking up into his mouth and simply wriggling.

“Rubio,” Holt wheezed, clinging to the edge of the mattress with his free hand. “Rubio, fuck, fuck, _fuck-”_

Midas hummed again in that familiar, fond way, and Holt came with a hoarse cry of his name. He shuddered with this one as the pleasure of it coursed through him, and as it faded into more of a sweet ache, Holt couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about how wet his inner thighs were now. His breath came in noisy huffs as he settled, riding the sharp edge of almost-too-much as Midas lazily dragged his tongue across his dick, idly cleaning up the mess he’d made.

Tiredly, Holt tugged on his hair - not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to get his attention. “Rubio.”

“Mm?” Midas planted one last kiss on the head of his dick, and then propped himself up on one elbow. “You done?”

“I’ve gotta _walk_ tomorrow, man,” Holt replied, laughing breathlessly. “You know Tony wants to head over to Montuyoc tomorrow. It’s full of mountains and shit.”

“We’ll be travelling by car.” Raising an eyebrow, Midas rested his thumb temptingly close to Holt’s dick in a silent question - and, god, Holt wanted to say yes. He knew Midas could easily keep up, and given the opportunity, neither of them would want to stop until they were both exhausted.

He sighed, though, and reached down to tangle their fingers together instead. “We’re gonna have to scout after that, though, and I don’t think I wanna listen to Coray giving us shit ‘cause I can’t crouch.”

“Fair enough,” Midas laughed. He gently squeezed Holt’s hand before he let go, pushing himself up to his knees. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

Reluctantly, Holt dragged himself off of the relative comfort of the mattress, snagging his abandoned underwear and pants on the way. As much as he wanted to stay and carry on with Midas, a slight twinge as he stood told him he’d made the right decision: he was already going to ache tomorrow, and another round would’ve made it even more uncomfortable than usual to crawl through the dirt and crouch in the shadows.

He was glad to sink in against Midas’ side once they were back in bed - clean and clothed - and he sighed as he hooked an arm around his partner’s waist. “Fuck, I’ll be glad when we’re back home.”

“Mm, me too,” Midas admitted. A warm palm settled on Holt’s lower back, just under the hem of his shirt. “It’ll be nice to just… turn off.”

Holt tilted his head back to smirk up at him. “But you’ll let me turn you on again, right?”

Midas exhaled heavily through his nose, but the way the corners of his mouth tugged upwards assured Holt that he was amused. “Yes, Dom, I’ll let you turn me on again.”

“Sweet. Glad we’re on the same page.” Still grinning, Holt patted his chest fondly, and then settled in against his shoulder. “Night, Rubio!”

As he closed his eyes, Holt felt the faintest impression of lips against his forehead, curved up in a smile. “Goodnight, Dom.”


End file.
